men are human

I've lately been saying to any about to be married couple we come across that they shouldn't worry so much about roles and headship and submission. Certainly, they should worry enough to try to obey the scripture. The man should be a man and should love his wife. The woman should be a woman and should respect her husband unconditionally, even if he doesn't deserve it. That's the whole point. He imputes love to her that she doesn't deserve. She imputes respect to him that he doesn't deserve. And there you are, they should both seek Jesus and love him and obey him and not worry so much. 

But then it seems that sometimes young couples, and sometimes even older married ones, are confused and troubled and get into tussles and difficulties. And then I think the trouble is that neither of them knows how to be human. Try being a human being and letting the other person be human, I say, waving my arms around. That's one of the things that's being torn asunder and ruined in this declining civilization. So confused is the question of gender the very humanness of each person is actually obscured.

Last century Dorothy Sayers wrote so cleverly, "Indeed, it is my experience that both men and women are fundamentally human, and that there is very little mystery about either sex, except the exasperating mysteriousness of human beings in general. And though for certain purposes it may still be necessary, as it undoubtedly was in the immediate past, for women to band themselves together, as women, to secure recognition of their requirements as a sex, I am sure the time has now come to insist more strongly on each woman's--and indeed each man's-- requirements as an individual person."*

I would say that the time has far far past for women to band themselves together on that score. Sayers is quite right. The time has come to stop doing that. And having done it too too much, and for a century wallowed in a falsehood that being a woman is a great trial and every man must give way to the Woman, to the furthest possible extent that he even stops being a man, every woman should turn around and walk in the other direction and let the poor man be human. She has not loved him as she loves herself. She should repent. He is a human being and she should open her eyes and heart and see that he is one. Her life is not a great trial or burden. She does not suffer more than anyone has ever suffered because of her gender. He has not destroyed her by being a man, any more than the child she could or has born has destroyed her. 

It was a great shock, so long ago, for the west to discover that women are human. It will be a shock, now, a seismic shift, to learn that men are too.

*Are Women Human? Dorothy Sayers, 1938

good dads

Every year on Father's Day I waffle between discouragement about that horrible statistic about fathers' church attendance and the resulting faith of their children (what is it, one in fifty children grow up to be church going if the father doesn't go, I need to look it up) and huge gratitude and joy that I have a good father, that my husband has a good father and that my children have a good father. And by Good I mean Kind, Godly, There, Having a Backbone and Being Wonderful in Every Way.

I was always surprised and happy as a child that my father laughed when I said something funny. Also, it seemed that his highest priority in life was to organize a fun time. This priority included fun things like going to church and eating cake. Now, far away in Kenya, he does fun things like play in fancy Recorder Ensembles and preach many Sundays at St. Francis church. 

Here we are, way back in the bad old days in the village, eating toh (I actually have no idea how to spell this essential delicacy) and probably peanut sauce.

Matt's desire for a good time means that we eat really fabulously and are on our way to an enormous and lush garden. This spring, though, to keep me from generally freaking out under the vast weight of laundry and baseball, he has spent hours in the basement, I mean Sheol, bailing me out of the pit of laundry I dug for myself, and at almost all other moments standing on the top level of the baseball risers biting his nails and praying for the strength of Alouicisous' skinny angular arm.

He well deserves a moment to sit down and 

receive a fancy card from Elphine. Marigold wasn't able to make a card, she said, because it its her Earth Day. This has become her standard response when asked about anything. In fact, said Marigold, we should have made her a card. Honestly.

So Happy Father's Day! And thank you for being a true picture of God's good fatherliness.

lilies of the field

I'm in the middle of the Great Autumn Clothes Change Over of 2012. Its not that cold out but our school room has an arctic air permeating it every morning now and there's been whining about the lack of sweaters and long trousers. So, of course, when Elphine came in just now wearing what appears to be a mini-skirt, I was able to react on the grounds that her knees would be cold and not to the fact that she looked like...well, there's no good way to end that sentence.

She and her brother are locked in an ongoing angry competition of who can get their school work done first every day, goaded along by their insolent siblings who say things like, "Well, you have to make your bed first," in a seriously nasty tone. Elphine is guaranteed a win today because Alouicious goes to Man's Bible Study (that's what he calls it) on Fridays, kindle and money for soda in hand. He gets up, has his cup of coffee, pretends to read the passage, forgets to get dressed until its almost too late, and then flings everyone into a three minute panic while he tries to catch up and leave for church at the same time as his father. He comes home two hours later smug and stuffed with bacon and tater-tots to finish the whole experience off with whatever we're having for breakfast, usually bread and jam.

What was I talking about? Oh yes, Clothes Change Over of 2012 (cue war music). Even though I got rid of 7 bags of clothes in the Great Spring Clothes Change Over of 2012 it seems that I am wrestling with Leviathan down there. Marigold, for example, is emotionally attached to all the clothes she wore last year but which, tragically, do not fit her at all. "That's my shirt" shrieks the girl who six months ago wouldn't say anything as I dress Fatty Lumpkin. "I want my shirt!"

And Gladys knelt worshipfully next to her drawer nearly all afternoon, waiting to see what I would put in it. Unhappily for her, Elphine went to kindergarten when she was five and had to wear a 'uniform' of khakis and different colored polo shirts, plus one pair of jeans for play. She picked the jeans out of her drawer gingerly, with real tears in her eyes and said, "I don't think these fit me."
"Sure they do," I said blithely, missing the point, "they're exactly right."
"No," she wept, "they don't fit at all, and they're very very ugly" and sobbed louder, flinging them in the pile of stuff to never be seen again. She resumed her kneeling posture ever more vigilant. I had to wait nearly a whole hour for her to be called away to put the khakis in. Pretty sure I'll find them flung all over the floor when I go down there this morning.

Even Romulus and Alouicious got in tussles with me about letting go of things that are really really really small. Romulus has two kinds of shirts in his drawer as a result, things to wear at home because they're full of holes and come up to the middle of his arm, and things to wear out because they won't let all the cold air in. "I just really need the shirt with the frog on it" he let me know after checking things over.

And then, to top things off, Matt stuck his stupid oar in. "Just throw away all the baby boy stuff" he postulated callously. I threw a book at him and gave it all up for the day. Stupid children, growing up, stupid husband, suggesting we ever get rid of the tiny baby sweater with the little cowboy and the horse and the little button shirt that goes under it, and the little tiny tie shoes. I'm going to give up my stupid diet and eat a piece of actual bread with actual jam.

the only thing that would make this better

Me: K- will be here around 6:45 tomorrow.
Matt: What! Why!
Me, startled: To watch the children.
Matt: At 6:45?! Why?
Me: So we can go to IV, because I have to give the talk...
Matt, collapsing with relief: Oh. Oh. Oh that's good. I thought you meant 6:45 in the morning.
Me: She's going to bring some laundry, as payment.
Matt: What? I'm all done with the laundry! Why is she doing laundry?
Me, continuing startled: She needs to do some laundry. Its the least we can do.
Matt: Oh, Oh Oh, good. I thought you meant our laundry. She's going to watch our kids, and do our laundry.
Rolling on the Floor Laughing Out loud
Matt: That's the only thing that would make watching our kids better! Thanks so much for watching our kids, that'll be 20 bucks. What? We agreed 20 bucks.
He's still laughing. I'm going to bed.

My sermon from this morning: Colossians 3:18

It’s a pleasure to be here with you this morning for this difficult and probably to some, deeply offensive passage of scripture. If you would all like to turn to Colossians 3 verse 18 you will see why all the men in leadership in this church turned into cowardly custards and refused to preach.

 To stand in the middle of a deep strong rushing river of cultural consensus and heartfelt belief and try to either face the opposite direction, or even just stand still, or even just ask a few questions is extremely uncomfortable and so I hope you will award me several truck loads of grace, your open ears and do your very very very best not to take offense because it is not my intention or desire to cause any. Let me also say that this topic is so fraught, so big, and so difficult for this day and age that this morning we will really only be dipping our toes in the water.

So, let’s start by just reading the verse and noticing some interesting things about the Greek and the translation that we have here.

Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord.

First, Paul says, Wives. He’s not talking to any of you single ladies right now. He’s talking to women who are married. If you’re about to get married I encourage you to pay attention. If you are single and carrying on happily in that state you can listen and analyze all your married friends. Just kidding.

In other words, what Paul is saying is not directed to every woman in regards to every man. All women every where are not being told to be submissive to all men everywhere. We’re talking about a particular relationship—marriage, one person submitting to one other person—her own husband. Even if you are dating someone, ladies, you do not have to and ought not, I would say, submit to the guy until he puts a ring on it, just to quote Byonce.

So, wives, submit to your husbands. The greek here actually is better rendered, ‘be subject to’, which to my delicate ears sounds even worse. We’re probably most familiar with the word ‘subject’ as in being subjects of a King or Queen. The word is not ‘subjugation’ but of willingly being part of a country or kingdom with a head leader. It’s a little more passive than the word submit.

Now notice who Paul is talking to in this verse. Wives, you submit, he says, not, as he does in Ephesians, ‘wives ought to submit to their husbands’, it’s a direct appeal. I say appeal because this kind of direct address is an usual occurrence for literature of this time and place in history. Were he following cultural conventions he might rather have said, husbands make your wives submit to you as to the Lord, because why would they even be there to hear the letter? They wouldn’t. And yet, here, in the church, they are there, they are hearing the letter, and Paul is talking to them directly, appealing to them as full, equal members of the Colossian church, able to exercise their own will and volition towards a particular way of life.

Which really lets us get at the guts of this verse if you think about it. Paul is talking to women whose lives would have looked much much more like the average Muslim in the middle east woman’s life now, than like yours and mine. The Colossian woman would have probably worn a head covering, if she was from a decent family she wouldn’t have gone out to the market alone without a man with her, or might not have gone at all. She wouldn’t have ever ever spoken in a disrespectful or critical manner of her husband. As a married woman she wouldn’t have had tons of freedom to organize her own life or fulfill herself in the way that we value and expect. And yet here, Paul is 1. talking directly to the married women in the church and 2. telling them to be subject.

Which says to me that we are talking about something far more interesting and difficult than mere outward behavior. For Paul to require this of women who in every outward form would have met the requirement of ‘submission’ or ‘subjection’ says to me he’s talking about their hearts and minds, not only their actions.

So, wives submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord.

The 'is fitting' is used in other contexts in the New Testament in conjunction with 'rest' or 'comfort'. We might render it, 'as is comfortable or restful' in the Lord. By that I don't mean, so long as it makes you feel comfortable, but rather in doing the will of God, you will be in a place of rest. But the word 'fitting' also means 'right', if something is fitting, it is right and appropriate, and in this case holy and good. Why is it fitting? Because it is 'in the Lord'.

We might recall that in Ephesians, Paul likens Christian marriage to be a picture of the mystery of Christ and the church. The husband is supposed to be like Jesus and the wife is supposed to be like the church. In modeling himself on Jesus the husband is to look to the love of Jesus for the church, such a great love that he went unto death, even death on the cross, to save, protect and redeem his bride. The church is protected, guided, sustained, given life by Jesus and does his will, carries out his purpose and desire in the world. No marriage, of course, is a very good picture of this mysterious and holy relationship. Some give a vaguely better outline than others. When a Christian woman submits to her husband she is at the same time submitting to Jesus, she is 'in the Lord', and she is submitting to the picture of Jesus, her husband, whether he is a terrible picture or a fairly good one.

Now, before the hair on your necks stands up and the appalling things I've just said, remember with me the relationship between Jesus, who is the second person of the Trinity, that is, God the Son, and his Father, that is, God the Father. There is another member of the Trinity, the Godhead, and that's God the Holy Spirit. God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit are all God. As God they are ontologically the same, that is, they are of one substance, one being, one nature. And in this equality of substance, being and nature, the three members of the Godhead, the three Persons, to use a technical word, love one another perfectly and completely. The Son, in perfect love and obedience submits his will to the will of the Father and the Holy Spirit proceeds, or goes out from both of them.

In other words, both the man and the woman, in marriage, are looking to Jesus for the perfect model of how to be.

Jesus, who though he was in the form of God, did not count Equality with God a thing to be grasped but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Philippians 2:5 Jesus did not want to die. He wasn’t running happily to horrific death. He asked his Father if it could possibly be within his will to not die and his Father said no. And Jesus, in perfect obedience and submission, went up to death, even death on a cross.

Now, we know, that in his life and work on earth, Jesus was an incredibly strong, perfectly fulfilled, perfectly full person. There was nothing lacking in him. His obedience and submission to the Father was something full and holy and beautiful. It brought about the salvation of all of us who believe and trust in him. Obedience and submission to God is not an evil emptying desperate thing. Obedience to God the Father is the source of our life. When you give yourself to Jesus, he gives you everything that he has, himself. And part of that is the ability to trust him and do his will. When you submit yourself to another person, you do this in the power of Jesus and for love of Him.

You might now see why I think this is not just a set of actions but an attitude of the heart and mind. I’m not going to stand here and say, wives, submit to your husbands—do all the housework, cook all the dinners, do all the laundry, uncomplainingly put out your husbands slippers for him when he arrives home in the evening, look deeply into his eyes and say, ‘what now Oh Lord and Master’. For heaven’s sake, that is not the way we function as human beings, certainly not in this culture. But I do, ever so gently, suggest that the way we think of, talk about, talk to, consider, pray for, love, care for, and submit to our husbands should not come from this culture either. So far from submitting to a husband in love, as is fitting in the Lord, we have gone entirely the other direction. A husband is often not even considered an equal, a full human person deserving of respect and consideration. Stupid idiot men, if we didn’t marry them they would be nothing.

One of my all time favorite tv shows, which Matt hates, is Everybody Loves Raymond. Yeah, she stayed home with the kids and he brought home the bacon, but he was an idiot—so funny. So many things he did were wrong. She was always persecuted and over worked and he was always having to worry about what stupid thing he was about to do that was going to get him in trouble with her. Stupid men, can’t do anything right.

That’s not true, or helpful. Paul says so, up above, there is no slave, free, male, female, Jew or Greek. We are equal. Neither men nor women are ontologically superior to each other. When you set out honor, respect and, horror of horrors, obey another person, its not because they are better than you, it is because, in a mysterious, holy and lovely way, when you do the will of God the Father, it gives life. I am speaking, said Paul in Ephesians, about the mystery of Christ and the Church.

So what might this look like, practically?

Well, first of all, it does not include or allow for any any any kind of abuse whatsoever. If you are being misused and hurt by another person please please get some help and get out. If you are misusing this text to control and hurt another person, stop it.

For the rest of us, it means standing in a rushing current of a culture that tells us that we are all that and that our husbands should listen to us and be guided by us and attend to us and that we're persecuted and put upon.

That's just not true. The men here at Good Shepherd are honorable, interesting, knowledgeable, dedicated, strong, deserving of respect and capable of leadership--both here in the church but more importantly, in their homes. But even if they weren't, even if they were awful, it would still be possible to submit to them, as is fitting in the Lord, because it is always always always better to things God's way than our own.

I am so so loath to give even any advice or say anything more at all. This kind of leadership and submission, shocking as it may sound, has come very easily to me and Matt. Matt has a very strong personality. That's why I married him. He enjoys a good fight. He likes to be challenged and argued with, and, on occassion, yelled at when he is being foolish or insecure or something. He does most of the cooking and all of the laundry and changes diapers and moes the lawn and watches the kids All the Time so that I can pray and take a shower by myself or go on a walk. And he is also clear headed about where he thinks we should go as a family, spiritually. He leads us to worship and obey God. On occassion, he exercises headship over me by drawing lines when I've signed up to do much, by encouraging me in my work here at Good Shepherd, by causing our children to respect and honor me when they might rather run roughshod over my plans for the day.

But the way we live this out is one way among many. But we are not the model, Jesus is. Look to him to give you rest, to show you the way, to give you the strength to do his will.

We will both stay up here after the service if you want to get a cup of coffee and come back up and talk about this some more--argue, ask for clarification, just talk--but for now, let's pray.

Holy and Gracious God, you have so loved us, so poured yourself out in humility for us, that we might know you and serve you. Help us be a good and true reflection of your Son Jesus. In his holy name we pray, Amen.

Weekend in Review

Preparations
We've spent, on the one hand, a very quietly subdued weekend, and on the other, a completely crazy one. Halfway through it occurred to me that there's an Appalling lack of sunlight. Being in total darkness at 5pm severely shortens the window of opportunity for doing actual work. As the sun goes down, so does my energy.

Friday, after leaving my mom off at the airport, we sat around in a kind of stupor, wondering what to do next. In the absence of any purpose in life Matt and I both separately put in loads of laundry and ran the dishwasher. And the children basically wandered around in a fog, arguing with each other and getting their feelings hurt. I was meant to go acquire all the accouterments required for a decent celebration of St. Nicholas, but I couldn't gather up the gumption to go which meant a crazier and more rushed Saturday.

When I finally did make it to the store, I was sorely bewildered by the number of people until I remembered why we do our weekly shopping on Monday and not Saturday--the Whole of Binghamton does their weekly shopping on Saturday. I stuck manically to my list so as not to be confused: turnips, carrots, oranges, clementines (for church), chocolate coins (for church), chocolate Santas (because I don't have time to mold my own chocolate bishop St. Nicholas'), a small fair even toy that in Some Way approximates the fancy expensive Russian Nesting dolls provided for Elphine by my mother. Turns out, there is Nothing that approximates fancy Russian Nesting Dolls. Wandered around and around trying to make a decision. I finally settled on plugs, as in pacifiers, for the baby, a little motorcycle for Romulus, chap stick for Gladys, and expensive pens and a notebook for Alouicious who is always trying to take mine.

Fretted for the rest of the day about whether or not I had blown it.

St. Nicholas Day
But really, I didn't blow it. Gladys loves chap stick and chocolate. Romulus loves motorcycles and chocolate. Alouicious loves to draw and eat chocolate. And Elphine loves Fancy Russian Nesting Dolls so much she actually forgot to eat her chocolate. She named the dolls, from biggest to smallest, Carolina, Sarah, Melissa, Mary and Rahab.

The joy and excitement continued in church. St. Nicholas actually came to visit, passing out gold coins and clementines which just happened to be in a large basket in the sacristy. All the children put out their hands as if receiving communion.

The Nutcracker
My final task of the day, after Christmas Pageant Practice, was to muscle Matt, Elphine and Alouicious into the car to go off and see the Nutcracker. I was just sure that Matt would not be able to get away from church before 2pm. I played it over and over in my head all weekend and as a result probably came across as hysterical and out of control. "Its 1:30! You need to leave Right Now! Here's your money! Here's your coat! Here are your children! Go go go go go!"

Matt gazed at me compassionately and buckled the children in, turned the car on, pulled out of the drive and then pulled back in and came back into the house.
"Where is it?" he asked.
"The Forum" I screamed wildly. "Its at the Forum!"
"Where is that?" He asked.
"You told me you know where everything is!"

Two hours later they all came back rosy, tired and basically happy.

Odds and Ends
Of course it snowed on Saturday. My mother knew it would.
"It will snow" she said as we drove up to Syracuse to the airport, "on Saturday. And the snow will stay on the ground until December 23rd. Then," she went on bitterly, "you will have a heat wave and all the snow will melt. Matt's parents will arrive December 24 and be completely disappointed by the lack of snow. You will continue snowless until they leave and then there will be a big storm and you will be covered in snow for the rest of the winter."

We had so much snow on Saturday that the children were able to go out and make a snow man. They also completely lost their wits, possibly with excitement, and began to remove their coats, hats and mittens. It only took the threat of coming in again for them to put them all on again.

And finally, Gladys seems to have decided to use the potty. When I say 'seems' I mean that she removes her diaper, announces that she will use the potty, sits on it for 30 seconds and then wanders off naked into the house to cause mayhem and havoc. Having not known how to potty train Romulus, I now do not know how to train Gladys for the simple reason that she's a completely different person. On the other hand, maybe she'll just figure it out herself.

And now, instead of uploading pictures which I know you all long to see, we're going to mash ourselves into the car and go buy food, because hopefully the rest of Binghamton is at work, not at the store, leaving the aisles free and clear.

Just a few years

I'm desperately trying to find something to wear. Matt is under the mistaken impression that just because I have a closet full of clothes, I therefore have something suitable to wear to a fancy restaurant, or anywhere for that matter. Also, I'm desperately trying to find some carpet cleaner because the kitties (this is not the official blog post on that subject, believe me, there is much to tell) out of fury and anger, relieved themselves in Matt's suitcase in our room (oh, they knew it was his, they're very smart cats). I know, we've been home a week and we shouldn't still have suitcases out, but I haven't managed to unpack them yet, so they're still there.

So, we've been married seven years. Matt thinks that he married up, but really, there's no way I could endeavor to deserve him. And to celebrate that fact, we're going to a new restaurant in Binghamton, a fancy one. We'll see. And I'll tell you tomorrow about what an interesting and lovely person Matt is, but for now, I've got to get my hands on that carpet cleaner or I shall veritably loose my mind.